Frostleaf Stadium was already packed by the time Jun and Marnie arrived.
Competitors made up only a fraction of the crowd outside; spectators, reporters, food stalls, and souvenir vendors filled the surrounding plaza until the whole place felt more like a festival than a small beginner tournament.
That was Galar for you.
Pokémon battles weren’t just popular here—they were practically a national obsession, and even a local event meant more people than Jun would’ve expected to see at a major tournament elsewhere.
Stadiums across the region differed wildly in design and size, but they all seemed built around the same assumption: if Pokémon were going to battle, people would come to watch.
Nobody paid much attention when Jun and Marnie entered.
They collected their numbers from the staff and headed into the competitors’ area to wait for their match.
Several kilometers away, a herd of Kangaskhan was making its way through the snow toward Frostleaf Town.
The adults moved steadily despite the weather, broad bodies shielding the smaller Kangaskhan tucked safely into their pouches.
One particularly excited youngster kept peeking out at the road ahead, clearly remembering something about last year’s visit.
Its mother blocked the falling snow with one hand while fishing a Berry from her pouch with the other, holding it up until the little one eagerly opened its mouth.
Among the herd was a younger Kangaskhan traveling without a child in her pouch.
This was her first year away from her own mother and one of her first long migrations with the group, but she wasn’t going to remain childless for much longer.
She was expecting her first baby.
Her pouch was already stuffed with Berries she’d collected along the way, even though there was no chance they would still be fresh by the time her baby could eat them.
That didn’t seem to matter.
Every time she found something good, another piece went into the pouch anyway.
As the herd continued toward town, faint red motes began drifting up from the ground.
The Kangaskhan noticed immediately.
Several slowed, uneasy at the strange glow spreading through the snow, but the herd leader kept them moving once it became clear that the concentration was too weak to trigger Dynamax.
They were only traces of Galar particles.
The younger Kangaskhan placed one hand against her stomach as something shifted inside her.
Her expression changed from confusion to surprise, then softened into unmistakable excitement.
Whatever effect the particles were having, her baby suddenly seemed much closer to arriving than she’d expected.
She hurried to keep up with the herd, one hand never leaving her stomach as Frostleaf Town drew nearer.
“Competitors, report to your assigned fields when your IDs are called!” The announcement echoed through the waiting area.
“ID fifty-six, Reed.
ID fifty-seven, Hugh.
Report to Field Three.” A moment later came the pair Jun had been waiting for.
“ID one hundred fourteen, Jun.
ID one hundred fifteen, Marnie.
Report to Field Three.” Jun glanced at Marnie, and the two stood together.
The tunnel leading onto the field was darker than he’d expected, which made the stadium lights feel painfully bright when they stepped outside.
Grass shifted beneath his shoes as his eyes adjusted, revealing stands already filled well beyond half capacity around the smaller battle field.
For something advertised as a casual festival tournament, Frostleaf took its battles seriously.
There were no Rotom Drones hovering overhead to provide analysis or record every angle.
Instead, a middle-aged referee in an official uniform stood at the edge of the field while local cameras handled the broadcast.
At Frostleaf Public Hospital, that broadcast was already playing on a tablet.
The little girl Jun had met the day before sat propped against her pillows, eyes widening the moment he appeared on-screen.
“Mom!
That’s him!” Her mother looked up from the sweater she was knitting.
A Joltik rested on the bed nearby, producing silk while she worked, and the woman adjusted her glasses before looking at the tablet.
A small smile appeared when she recognized Jun.
“So it is.
Let’s hope he does well.” The girl nodded with great seriousness, then scooped Joltik into her arms without warning.
It squeaked in surprise but quickly gave up on resisting, continuing to produce silk while being forced to watch the match with her.
Back at the stadium, the referee raised his voice over the crowd.
“This will be a Multi Battle.
Each Trainer may use one Pokémon.
A team loses when both of its Pokémon are unable to continue or when the team forfeits.
There are no move restrictions.” He gestured first toward the two boys opposite Jun and Marnie.
“Reed and Hugh!” Then toward Jun’s side.
“Against Jun and Marnie!” Both arms came down.
“Begin!” The stands erupted.
The sudden wall of sound hit Jun harder than he’d expected.
People were shouting names, arguing over the competitors, and cheering for Trainers they’d probably never met before.
“Marnie!
Over here!” “Who’s the guy with her?” “Jun?
Never heard of him.” “Is he even registered with the League?” “Who cares?
He’s cute.” “Just don’t drag Marnie down!” Jun took a slow breath as his pulse picked up.
This was his first actual battle against other Trainers.
More than that, it was the first time he’d stood on a field with hundreds of people watching every decision he made.
In most regions, he’d probably have needed to reach a League Conference before experiencing anything close to this.
Here, it was a local festival.
Across the field, their opponents moved first.
“Go, Klink!” “Bunnelby, you’re up!” Two flashes of light deposited Klink and Bunnelby onto the grass.
Marnie glanced toward Jun before tightening her hold on Morpeko.
For once, she seemed to have more than a few words to say.
“I’ve got people back home who always cheer for me.
Team Yell didn’t come with me this time, but I know they’re watching somehow.” Her gaze returned to the field, and the faint tension in her expression sharpened into determination.
“Thinking about that makes it hard to hold back.” Jun knew enough about Team Yell to imagine exactly how loud Spikemuth probably became whenever Marnie appeared on a screen.
She lowered Morpeko toward the field.
“Let’s go, Morpeko!” “Moru!” Morpeko sprang from her arms and landed lightly on the grass.
Electricity crackled from its cheek sacs as it slapped them with both hands, practically vibrating with excitement.
Jun reached for the Premier Ball at his waist.
Marnie had just said more to him in one breath than she had during most of their conversations combined, but this wasn’t the moment to comment on it.
Winning would say more than anything clever he could come up with.
“Ralts, you’re up!” Light burst across the field, accompanied by the distinctive sparkle of a Shiny Pokémon.
Ralts appeared beside Morpeko and immediately fixed her amber eyes on Klink and Bunnelby, shifting forward with both fists ready.
“Ru-ra!” The crowd’s reaction changed the instant they realized what they were looking at.
Ralts was already a popular and relatively uncommon Pokémon.
A Shiny Ralts appearing in a small-town tournament was something else entirely, and the scattered cheers swelled into a roar that rolled around the stadium.
Jun felt it in his chest.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he understood something about Galar that the games had never quite managed to convey.
Here, a Pokémon battle wasn’t merely a competition.
It was a show.
And standing on the field with Ralts beside him, Jun finally understood why so many people dreamed of becoming Trainers despite everything that could go wrong…
[End of chapter] Jun’s Pokémon Research Notes Exhibition Match I’d always thought the name sounded a little too much like entertainment and not enough like a real battle.
Then I stepped onto a Galar field for the first time.
Now I get it.